The Impostor Queen (41 page)

“The girl's a fraud!” he yells. “She has no magic. Destroy her!”

Oskar shouts my name as the acolytes lunge for me, hot and cold hands tearing at my clothes. No sooner has someone grabbed my hair than all of them are thrown away from me with a fierce gust of icy wind. It thunders through the plaza, knocking everyone but me back. I look over my shoulder to see the wielders, with Oskar and Sig at the front, pour through the gates. Raimo is nowhere in sight, and I can only hope he's safe.

The magic erupts around me. But none of it touches me. It's almost as if time has stopped. Sound is muted. Priests and apprentices storm down the vast temple steps and into the plaza, flanking the group of terrified acolytes to take on the rebel wielders. As Oskar runs for me, ice arches from the fountain and crashes down as a wall between us. It melts a moment later, long enough for me to see a flash of Sig's white-gold hair and pale skin, but then it re-forms as spikes, which fly into the air—and come straight for me.

Knives of ice, wielded by blood-fueled priests. My death looks like glittering diamonds in the sunlight. Oskar and Sig are under siege—they can't stop it. But right before the frozen blades hit home, they veer off track, flying silent and sharp around me, close enough for me to feel their cool kiss. Acolytes scream as their bodies are stabbed straight through, and they fall, writhing, to the marble slabs.

Nothing
magical can harm me. I look behind me, and there's a crowd of black robes between me and my Suurin, who are fighting for their lives against a horde of priests and apprentices. If they can't reach me, I can't magnify their power. But even without me, the small group of rebels is holding their own, pushing the enemy back. Oskar and Sig are shoulder to shoulder now, protecting each other and wielding as one force, though the fire strikes with precision and the ice is wielded like a blunt instrument.

And I'm standing in the middle of the plaza. Forgotten. Unchallenged. I look up the long flight of steps leading to the domed chamber. Inside is the child Saadella—and the elders. The fury twists inside me. I walk forward, only dimly aware of the Valtia statues in the fountains cracking, of marble exploding outward as blasts of fire and ice tear them apart. The shards pock the marble slabs at my feet, but not a single bit strikes me. But when a wall of flame crackles and blasts against my back, the ashy cinders of my burning dress fill the air. With a pang of sorrow, I know my carved dove is aflame, but I let the fiery garment fall from my shoulders. My boots become charcoal as the marble at my feet becomes hot as a roasting pan.

Naked, barefoot, I move forward. The instinct is so deep. Suddenly I understand why Sofia was so kind, so loving to me. I may not have inherited the magic, but I inherited this. With every shred of my being, I love that little Saadella, as much as I love myself. I don't know her name, but I don't need to. She's my sister, my daughter, my heart. I will never allow the elders to harm her or have her.

There is blood all around, suffering all around, death all around. I can't look. I don't want to know who we've lost. My eyes burn as I think how all of it could have been prevented. I mount the steps, leaving gray footprints on the pristine white marble and gleaming copper inlay. My hair is ruffled by wind that others will feel as a gale. None of it can slow me down. I hear my name and look behind me. Oskar and the others are advancing—they've reached the destroyed fountains now. My dark-haired Ice Suurin looks strong and fearless as he and Sig coordinate their movements, manipulating the temperature to lift a hunk of marble statue in the air. The giant slab of stone falters, and Sig yells at Oskar to focus the cold above the rock and keep it there. Together, they clumsily hurl it at the priests, who barely deflect it.

The elders inside must be aware of what's happening, but they haven't come out. They're depending on their acolytes and priests to die for them, while they hide in the temple with the Saadella.

What if they're hurting her?

What if they're escaping?

I stride quickly up the steps until I reach the semicircular plateau of stone that marks the entrance to the temple. Pillars of marble rise mighty and strong every twenty feet or so, holding up the massive copper dome above us. The battle has progressed to the base of the steps, and when I glance beyond them, I see people flooding into the plaza. Nonmagical people, wielding their scythes and spades. Sig and Oskar are surrounded by black-robed wielders, deflecting spikes of ice and magically hurled chunks of broken marble. A small crowd of acolytes have their hands up in surrender, but bodies of wielders litter the wide expanse, crushed and stabbed, burned and frozen. Magic can kill in so many different ways. The elders must know all of them.

But none of them will work on me, and perhaps that's the reason I'm here. As Oskar and Sig begin to climb the steps, I walk into the domed chamber, my only thought the helpless little girl held prisoner here.

“Is your nakedness meant to distract us?” says the hard voice I fear the most. “I hate to disappoint you.” Aleksi strides out of the Valtia's wing, his dark eyes full of hatred.

On his wrist is the cuff of Astia.

I look down at my own soft, naked body. It looks so ordinary. I raise my head. “My clothes aren't fireproof, unfortunately.”

For a moment, uneasiness flickers across his expression, but when his fingers stroke across the copper cuff, he grows bold again. “Where have you been all these weeks? Gathering a tiny army to challenge us? I should freeze you right here and let your body decorate our chamber.” He raises his arm to strike.

I don't flinch. “Where is the Saadella?”

His thin lips tighten. “Lahja is safe from your influence.”

“Lahja.” Her name is like a drop of sweetness on my tongue. “I need to see her.”

He grimaces. “Do you have any idea what you've done?”

“Do you?” I stand my ground as he stalks forward. Any minute Oskar and Sig will stride into the temple, and we'll put an end to this madness together. “I sensed you were evil. I just never knew how much.”

His jowls quiver. “We've guarded and protected the Kupari our entire lives. We sacrificed in a way you could never understand. We've done everything we could for the people. And you—not only did you find a way to deny the magic that should have been yours, you've raised a rebellion right when we need unity!”

“Unity.” My fists clench. “Did the acolytes feel that unity as you bled them to death? How many have you tasted, Aleksi? How many have you killed?”

He pales a shade. “This is a ludicrous accusation.”

“Then where are the cloistered acolytes?”

A drop of sweat slips from the top of his bald head and slides down his cheek. “I don't owe you any answers. You've destroyed this great people, Elli. Your rebels were responsible for the fire yesterday, weren't they?”

“Why Mim?” I ask, sorrow tightening my throat.

“The Soturi announced that they were coming to meet with our queen, and we needed someone to play the part,” he says simply. “And she had no magic of her own. No will, either. We knew she wouldn't cause trouble.”

“Because you tortured her!” I shriek, my fury hot as iron.

Aleksi sneers. “Like you, she was worth nothing! But you are even worse. You felt entitled to what you never deserved. Instead of obedience and submission, you—”

“Obedience and submission? The Valtia is supposed to be the queen!”

“You are far from a queen.” His thin lips curl in contempt. “Your rebels will bring the Soturi to our borders. Their chieftains are probably galloping straight to Vasterut to gather their forces. When they return, our downfall rests on your shoulders!”

His fingers flex, and fire bursts around me, a swirling, dancing, roaring wall of flame. The warmth licks at me like a tender caress, and despite my instincts to cower, I walk forward.

The flames part like a curtain to allow me through. Aleksi's eyes go wide. He raises his arm, and the cold descends, but it can't even raise goose bumps along my skin. “You were prepared to kill me. You whipped me, you nearly drowned me, and then you were going to discard me. Had you planned to drink my blood, too?”

He edges toward the entrance to the catacombs, tossing nervous glances at the Saadella's wing as he does. He touches the cuff of Astia and tries another blast of flame, but it dies quickly. “You found your magic,” he says.

I smile as I hear Oskar's voice just outside the temple, shouting to Sig about where to strike next. “I guess you could say I did.” I take a few steps backward. I want Oskar and Sig to reach me quickly.

“They're coming!” screams Armo, staggering into the chamber with burned hands and patches of frostbite across his bald head. “We can't hold them back!” He stumbles and falls, then scoots along the floor until he's over the seal of the Saadella. “Elder, pl—”

Fire rolls between two pillars and unfurls across his back. The plea becomes a scream as Sig stalks into the domed chamber, glaring at his old friend with flames in his eyes. Aleksi snarls and shoves his arm out—but the attack isn't made of ice. He sends pure heat at Sig, who has no cold to counter it. I start for the Fire Suurin, desperate to protect him, but Aleksi lunges forward and grabs me. I slam my elbow into his soft belly and he huffs, his chubby fingers twisting in my hair. Sig falls to his knees, his skin red, his eyes squeezed shut. Aleksi wrenches me against him as he sends another blast of fire toward Sig.

It hits a wall of icy air. Oskar strides into the temple, thunder in his gaze as he takes in my naked form, legs drawn up to my chest, fighting to free my hair from Aleksi's merciless grasp without touching his bare skin—I don't want him to have my power, or even know of it. Unfortunately, that means I can't free myself just yet.

Oskar hooks his hand under Sig's arm and lifts the fire wielder to his feet. Sig draws in deep breaths of the cool air in Oskar's wake as sweat streams down his bare torso. His cloak clings to his damp back and shoulders, and he leans against the Ice Suurin to stay upright.

Oskar's jaw is tight as he stares at Aleksi. “You're making your final mistake, Elder,” he says quietly.

“The only mistakes are yours!” shouts Aleksi. “Listen to the destruction in the white plaza. So many young wielders! Our future!”

“
Your
future!” Oskar roars. His voice rings with disgust—he's killed over and over, and he looks sick with the knowledge. “How many futures have you stolen to ensure your own?”

Aleksi drags me backward. “I have lived to serve the magic of the Kupari,” he snaps. “Everything I've done has been for that reason.” As we near the entrance to the catacombs, I get desperate, and my fingernails claw at his skin. He lets out a surprised grunt and grabs my right hand, grinding the stumps of my lost fingers between his own and making me shriek with pain. He looks down at the cuff clamped over his thick wrist, and then down at me. The swell beneath his chin trembles as one of his hands disappears into his baggy sleeve. “Why didn't we think of this?” His eyes are shining, and panic fills my hollow chest. “Why didn't we guess?”

Oskar and Sig both step forward at the same time, but the sharp prick of a blade at my neck stops them dead. “Come any closer, and her blood will paint these hallowed grounds.”

I stare at Oskar.
Freeze his blood. You can do it.
But worry clouds his features. He's probably scared he won't be fast enough, that Aleksi will feel the ice magic and kill me. And for all I know, Aleksi is powerful enough to counteract it, especially since he's wearing the cuff.

“There are so many things you don't know,” I tell the elder, hoping to distract him long enough for the Suurin to strike. “The elders have been half-blind all these years. And how many has it been, Tahvo?” As soon as I say that old, evil name, the elder edges the blade up under my throat. The stinging line of pain feels like heat and cold at the same time.

“I know exactly who told you that name,” he says, his voice ragged. “And it explains so much. But it's you who are half-blind.”

Oskar and Sig strike at the same time, their teeth gritted as they send dual blasts of magic at us. Aleksi's broad hand clamps itself over my neck, and I feel the pull of his magic as he tries to use me to retaliate. Every muscle in my body turns to stone—the horror of being used to hurt Oskar and Sig is more than I can bear. As fire and ice burst around me, I fold in on myself, becoming as small as I can, shielding that bottomless well inside me that wielders use to amplify their own magic. I won't give it to Aleksi. He'll have to kill me first.

As if he hears my thoughts, the blade of the knife lifts, and I glance up to see it arcing down toward me. I throw myself back to avoid the slice of it just as Aleksi staggers under the heat of Sig's fire. Scrambling out of the elder's reach, I make it halfway between the wielders when Oskar's fingers rake the air. Aleksi lets out a choked cough. He pounds at his chest and drops his knife.

Oskar runs toward me, Sig right behind him. My ice wielder reaches down to take my hand, but then he's lifted off his feet and hurled against the stone wall opposite the Saadella's wing. The force of it is so intense that I feel the impact shudder through the floor. I scream and launch myself toward Oskar, but Aleksi's hand catches my ankle, and I tumble forward, losing my air as I hit the marble. Oskar falls at the same time, sliding to the side, his eyes closed and his arms limp, his big body shivering and shaking. My eyes meet Sig's. That strike didn't come from Aleksi.

“Help me, sire!” Aleksi calls out as a dark-robed figure moves in my periphery. “Elli—she's an—”

“There's no time!” says a familiar voice. “Hold them back!”

Sig wheels around as Elder Kauko jogs out of the wing, a struggling little girl in his arms. Her coppery hair is in tangled ringlets around her face, and her round cheeks are streaked with tears.